Novel Romance

It's a lazy summer night and people are strolling through the Old Town section of a city I'm visiting. I'm wearing a light, round neck, short-sleeved, white jersey, and a flowered above-the-knee, pleated skirt. The air is early evening balmy and I'm feeling relaxed.

I wander into a large old style, independent bookstore. It isn't one of those meticulously designed and engineered chains. It has several floors in a former warehouse with a maze of narrow aisles, dim lights and lots of hidden nooks and crannies. I love bookstores. Any bookstore, any time. This one already feels special. It's warm, inviting and the type of paradise where they want you to relax and spend hours. It's mid-week and the customers are light.

I get lost in the browsing and settle on a cushion in a shadowy and deserted corner. Soon, I'm immersed in a well written, bodice-ripper, romance novel. When a lusty scene heats up, my hand drops to my lap up and discretely applies a little pleasant pressure. I barely notice when a redhead takes a nearby chair. I stop my light massage and focus again on the book.

After a few minutes, the woman leans over and says, "She's one of my favorite authors." I'm usually shy and don't talk easily to strangers. But, I'm comfortable, in a safe space and share her enjoyment of the book. "I can see why. She's a good writer."

The woman is a little older than me and is wearing a business casual pastel yellow blouse and a black skirt. "Hi, I'm Lizbeth" she says and extends her hand. I take it and reply, "My name is Tina." Her hand is warm and her grip lingers a bit. Her subtle floral perfume fills my nostrils and adds a summery fragrance to the moment.

She tilts the book to see the title. "Oh, that's one of her better ones," she coos with the hint of an enticing accent. Lizbeth whispers, "Have you gotten to the garden scene yet? It turns me on just think about it."

I'm feeling unexpectedly excited from her smile, the cozy setting, the sexy book. It feels intimate even though we're strangers. I surprise myself by saying, "No, but, some of these steamy descriptions are having the same effect on me." I give a sultry expression and fan myself with my hand. We both giggle.

"Do you mind if I read along. I need a little fantasy fix after a hard day."

The scene is unusual. Yet, I feel as if I'm transported back to a sleepover with one of my best friends in high school. "No, I don't mind. It would be fun," I say warmly.

She drops from the chair onto a pillow and moves next to me. "Can I read it aloud?" She whispers into my ear.

I'm confused by her forwardness. Simultaneously off-balance and excited. I surprise myself by saying, "That would be nice."

Lizbeth snuggles closer and our shoulders are touch. She begins to read the erotic scene I was in the middle of. Her voice is low, but filled with sexual tension that adds to the spirit of the story. The words flow over me and I can't help but get aroused by the detailed description of the seduction and the stimulating contact of the skin of our arms. I close my eyes and drift along with the risqué plot. At one point, Lizbeth's hand drops to my thigh.

I get a little jolt. Concerned about being seen in such a public place, my eyes scan for anyone else nearby. Still, the rhythm of her melodious voice relaxes me. It drops my inhibitions. I lean my head against her shoulder and am lost in the moment. My body both relaxes and excites.

When her fingers begin to caress my leg, the touch is welcome. I lick my lips as I vicariously become the heroine of the story who is being fondled by her lover. I breathily exhale into Lizbeth's ear, "This is wonderful."

She turns her neck and says, "I feel it to, Tina. It's your turn to read."

I don't want to break the feeling, but her lips on my neck promise higher thrills. I take the book. Through heavy-lidded eyes, I continue where she left off. The florid words keep me aroused. But, now it is supplemented by Lizbeth's erotic ministrations.

Her lips start to travel over my upper body. Lizbeth's tongue explores my welcoming skin. One of her hands touches my breasts. The full mind and body experience has my libido aflame. I use my free hand to massage the silky material of her blouse.

Her hand reaches beneath my skirt. I can barely concentrate as my mind fogs from the electric sensations pulsing through my nerves. Before I know, it my bra is revealed and the hem of my dress is lifted. I can barely breath enough to keep reading and I stammer.

Lizbeth purrs, "Keep going." Her lips move to my breast and I tense as my nipple hardens.

I answer, "You keep going."

Her fingers brush the front of my panties. They are pleasantly damp. I swoon further and return to reading the sex scene that is building to a climax.

We tussle for a few minutes more as the literary tryst in the story finishes with a flourish of heat. I drop the book and turn my full attention to our coupling. I am oblivious to our location and lost in the universe that is the two of us. I bring Lizbeth's mouth to mine. Her lips are full and delicious. My hands lift her skirt to her waist and I shift to pull her on top of me. "Please, ravish me," I beg using the words from the book.

Lizbeth complies with fervor. I release a pent up lust I didn't know I contained. We rub our genitals together in a frenzy through our thin and slippery panties. Our breasts are uncovered and buzz with bolts as they rock and rub against each other. We are both hot, and entering that mindless zone where the mind recedes and passion controls. We are mounting toward our own romantic climax and our feverish thrashing accelerates.

I make a feeble attempt to remove my panties,

"Don't bother," Lizbeth murmurs. Her eyes are deep and aflame. We are engulfed in a mist of sexual pheromones.

She's right. It's unnecessary. My clit is hard and volcanic. I lift my hips and press as firmly as possible against her pounding thrusts. In seconds, I burst and my body is molten and transformed.

Lizbeth is panting and still humping. But, with a final thrust she shakes my body, her face is a supernova and she joins me in ecstasy.

Lizbeth collapses over me and is the most loving blanket of a lover I've every known. We are still as the cosmos of bliss envelopes us. Eons pass as we soak in the sensations. She recovers first and gives me a soft and lingering kiss.

When our lungs are capable, Lizbeth says, "See. I told you she was a great writer."

I try to stifle the girlish laugh that bubbles out of me. Once again, I'm acutely aware of of the public area we are in. Discretion and embarrassment that I had completely abandoned minutes earlier rush back. I look around for other customers and move to straighten my clothes. Lizbeth has the same thought and covers her lovely and flushed breasts.

When no one appears to have seen our wanton display, we look into each other's eyes. The relief is shared and the tension ebbs. The warm glow returns. Lizbeth gives me another hug and kiss. I don't want the embrace to end.

When we separate, we tend to our disheveled clothes and hair.

The awkward 'what next' moment arrives. I feel suddenly shy and hesitant that is inconsistent with our recent uncontrolled coupling. I ask, "Would you like to get a drink?"

Lizbeth nods with a look that says she doesn't want this to be over.

I smile and pick up the book and my purse, "I'm buying this novel. It's a keeper."

She takes my hand, "So are you."

I blush from connection and desire.

As we walk to the register, Lizbeth asks, "Do you want to get that drink at my place? I've got a lot more of these books in my bedroom that we could read together."

My lips brush her cheek. "I'd love to love you while you read."